


A Case of You

by CommonwealthCutie



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Gen, M/M, Romance, soul mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10798923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonwealthCutie/pseuds/CommonwealthCutie
Summary: To many, reincarnation is simply a theory for what happens when one dies that gives hope for "life after death" because just blank emptiness doesn't make sense and neither does a invisible man in the sky.For Steve Rogers, reincarnation isn't just an idea. It exists and he's one of the only people who remembers every single life that he's ever lived.The year is 1969 and the hippie movement is in full swing. Steve has managed to break his 18th year death for the first time in centuries and to celebrate, he's hitchhiked from his home in Brooklyn to Bethel, NY to attend the four day long Woodstock festival. While there, he opens up to a new friend and reincarnation enthusiast named Daisy about his past lives and how he's spent the last two lives in search of William. His soulmate.During the festival, Steve runs into a familiar face in the crowd during the Grateful Dead's set. Is it William or are the lines between past and present becoming blurred?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, I haven't properly written in years.  
> Apologies if this is a bit rough.
> 
> *Secondary note- The story will be updated bi-weekly on Tuesdays & Thursdays  
> 5/14/17 - Heckin' sick. updating soon. Story isn't abandoned.

 Aug 15, 1969  
Bethel, New York 

Volkswagen vans and poorly pitched tents lined the outer area of the four hundred acre dairy farm with dark, heavy clouds looming overhead. Steve Rogers was nestled in the back of a Volkswagen bus, head in the lap of a smiling girl, thin wispy hands lovingly carded through his hair. The bus was far from the stage but Steve could still feel the heavy thump of the bass in his chest. He exhaled, blowing a chain of imperfect smoke rings towards the painted roof of the bus. For the first time in all of the lives he's lived, he was happy. Each of the previous lives ended quite tragically for him and rarely did he live to see his eighteenth birthday. Disease, plague, war, murder. Something always happened to him. This, however was the first time he made it to twenty and he was determined to make it as far as possible this time. 

Young Steve Rogers led a rather uneventful life. Not through circumstance but by choice. He was born into a lower-middle class family in Brooklyn. His father worked at a butcher and his mother was a housewife who raised five boys. Steve included. In school, Steve kept mostly to himself and had quite an interest in science. History, not so much and with good reason. For most of his life, Steve kept his head down and in the books. Again, a life without excitement wouldn't exactly guarantee a full life but it'd certainly increase his odds.

Aside from himself, Steve knew of one other person that has also remembered their past lives. They met once before back before the Civil War. His name then was William, a farm hand who worked alongside him on an apple orchard in North Georgia. On a drunken night, the two exchanged stories of their past lives by a campfire behind the stables. William said that Steve (then Elias) was the only other person he's come across in the past two centuries that remembers their past lives. After that night, the two became inseparable and often stole kisses while hidden in the orchard after the sun had set. Though there wasn't a word for it during that era, the two knew that they were soulmates. Unfortunately, their love was short lived. Steve was killed when the orchard owner attempted to turn away a troop of confederate soldiers and they murdered . Steve spent a lot of his next life desperately in search of William, often coming up on dead ends. That life ended abruptly with a fiery wreck that killed Steve and his older sister who were on the great journey in search of his soul mate.

** 

Up until that humid August day, Steve Rogers pushed all ideas and memories related to William as far back as possible. Maybe it was the weed or the overwhelming sense of comfort that radiated off of his new friend but something stirred within him, releasing the memories of William. He sat up immediately with a hand clenched to his bare chest as he suddenly struggled to find his breathe. Daisy looked at him, alarmed by his sudden movement and obvious panic that overcame him. He could see her mouth moving but there didn't seem to be any sound coming from it. 

“Steve, are you okay, dude?” 

“What?” He blinked, trying to refocus on the world around him. “I...” He exhaled, catching his head in his hands. 

“Did you smoke too much, man? Fuck.” Daisy took another hit from the joint before putting it in the center of a sloppily painted peace sign on the wall of the bus. She reached forward, stroking a hand up and down the length of his back.

“Maybe, I don't know.” He shook his head, “Can I ask you a question, Daisy?”

“Anything, dude.” She laid back on the the mountain of pillows stacked in a corner. “We're practically family.”

“Right. Well, I don't want to come off as some crazy person.” Daisy was the first person in this life that Steve felt comfortable enough with to talk to about well, everything. Even if she was a stranger, he felt like he knew her before in another life which was quite likely.

“Judgment free zone, my man. Anything spoken about in our sacred space stays between us.” 

“Okay...” He scooted closer to her, shrinking the massive gap that was now between them. Steve looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was within earshot of their conversation. Nobody. “Do you believe in reincarnation, Daisy?”

“Yeah man...” Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “It makes the most sense out of all the afterlife theories and I'm a firm believer, why?”

A wave of relief washed over him. “I uh...Well, as crazy as it seems, I remember my past lives. All of them.”

Daisy sat up almost immediately, her bright blue eyes wide with surprise. She pulled a pillow around from behind her and clutched it tightly to her chest, “No shit...” She owl blinked, “That's mind blowing, man. Woah.”

Steve's cheeks were flush. He looked away for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tell me about it.”

The red head was at a clear loss of words as she look at him with a slack jawed stare. 

“The thing is...this is the first time I've made it to twenty one. I usually die around eighteen or younger.”

“Harsh.” She shook her head, “Are you like...cursed?”

He sucked his teeth, running his fingers through the plush carpet. “I-I don't think so. It seems like I just had shit luck. I mean, look. I'm twenty-one.”

Daisy reached over to the half empty cooler and pulled out a couple of lukewarm beers. “I'm kind of glad I can't remember anything from my past lives. Seems like pretty heavy shit to be carrying around for so long.”

“It is.” He popped the cap off of his bottle and took a long swig. “Cotton mouth.”

She hummed, “Side effect of smoking.” Daisy lazily tossed their bottle caps onto the growing pile that was now overtaking the front seat. “Let's get out of the van and go lay in the fields while the weather is still decent. C'mon.” She reached forward, wriggling her thin fingers at him. 

“Sure. Can we go further out so people can't listen to us.”

She shrugged, taking a drink from her bottle. “If it makes you more comfortable, sure.”

Steve followed Daisy up a smooth, sloped hill that had a dead center view of the stage below. She laid down in the overgrown grass and weeds, releasing a small sigh as she pulled Steve down beside her. “So...Steve.”

“Daisy.”

“How many lives have you gone through so far?” She didn't hesitate to ask but she assumed it must have been a lot since he never lived a long enough life.

“Ten? Honestly, I've stopped counting.” He squinted, watching the graying clouds roll over one another as the closed in on the farm.

“Any favorite lives? Did you know any famous historical people?” 

“Since I made it past eighteen, I'd say this one is my favorite and no, I didn't. I think the closest I really got was in one life, my mother's second cousin is Poe.” 

Daisy began plucking blades of grass from the dirt, “No shit...How was that?”

“Didn't really know him. He lived several states away. I met him once when I was really young.”

The redhead began braiding the grass blade together, knotting in the occasional daisy. “Did you ever fall in love?”

William. Steve sat up and began fidgeting with the hem of his shorts, pulling at a loose thread. He swallowed hard. “Once.”

“What happened?” She inquired, desperate to know the outcome of his first love.  
“What always happens, Daisy.” He flicked a dirt covered thumb across the tip of his nose. “I die. I always die.”

Daisy poured what little bit was left of her beer down her throat, tossing the bottle to into the grass. “I know that much. Tell me about how you met them.”

“Oh...” He laid back down, resting the back of his head on his arms. “It was 1860.”

“Shitty era.”

“Absolutely horrible.” He agreed, “I was traveling to the north from Georgia when I stopped for work at an apple orchard just outside of Atlanta.” Steve shut his eyes for a moment, allowing everything to come back to him. He smiled. “I needed money for food and the orchard needed a few more hands during picking season so, I figured I'd stop there for a week or two and earn enough money to make it to Tennessee. That's where I met him, William.”

“William.” Daisy cooed his name, her fingertips slowly working on the grass crown. 

“He was also there for seasonal work. We bonded almost immediately and were inseparable. I could feel there was something about him that was different from the others.”

“Wait. Was he like you, Steve? Did he-”

He interrupted her question, already aware of what it was. “Yeah. We were out in the orchard one evening after every else went home and got drunk on cider made from the very apples that we picked. One thing led to another and we just laid everything bare.”

“I bet it was so liberating to finally bare your soul to someone without the fear of being judged or anything.”

“It was. I knew from that night that the two of us were-”

“Soulmates.” The two spoke in unison and Daisy giggled with delight. 

Steve could see that night as if it happened the day before. It was one of the clearest memories that he's held onto. Fingertips ghosted over his bottom lip as sparks ignited in the pit of his stomach, the images of William's lips against his were all that he could see behind his eyelids. What Steve wouldn't do for just one more night under the stars in William's arms. “I spent two lives searching for him, Daisy.”

“Do you think you'll ever see him again?”

“I honestly do not know.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the middle of the Grateful Dead's set, Steve is caught of guard when a blue eyed boy comes crashing into him.

Most of the following day was spent hidden in the high patchy grass with Daisy at his side, consumed in the masterpiece of Steve's previous lives woven before her. Tales of how he learned to swim in the Ocmulgee River. His father taking him on his first hunting trip. Steve spoke fondly of his first kiss with Eleanor Fitzgerald behind the old school house and how she taught him all about tracking and trapping squirrels. The magic of electricity and cars. In spite of all the bad that happened to him, Steve couldn't deny the good that he was also able to witness. While all of his lives before the current were cut quite short, Steve was able to take so many lessons from them and utilize them in each of the ones that followed. 

Daisy however, had become absolutely transfixed on the brief, romantic months that were share between Steve and William. She spent a majority of the night before talking Steve's ear off while he hovered in between being asleep and awake. Even long after he had finally fallen asleep, she kept talking. There were so many question she had and Daisy was fairly certain that there wasn't enough time over the four days they had together to answer each and every one of them. 

“Let's take a quick break from the whole reincarnation talk.” Daisy suggested in between bites of a bowl of granola. She sat the bowl down, “We've spent all morning and afternoon out here in the hills. Do you plan on seeing any of the bands play or are you not a concert kind of person because that would really make any sense because Woodstock is like this super huge music fest.”

The break was more than welcome and he didn't dare to object her offer. The last time Steve talk that much about his past lives was when he opened up to his older sister about everything. It felt like a relief at first but turned into a mad hunt for William which got both of them killed in a crash in the outskirts of London. “Actually, yeah.” He scratched the lobe of his ear, feet squished into the mud beneath them. “I came here to see the Grateful Dead.”

She laughed and Steve shot her a questioning look, his eyebrows furrowed. “You look like a Grateful Dead fan. Should've guessed that much.”

“And what exactly do Grateful Dead fans look like?” He mused, watching her shove another spoonful of the granola into her mouth, crunching loudly.

“Okay,” She sat up next to him, immediately pointing a shaggy haired guy to the right of the, “That guy. The one with the tie dye shirt and long blonde hair. Grateful Dead fan.”

He wasn't sold. “Daisy...eighty percent of the people here are wearing tie dye.”

She pressed a finger to his lips, a coy smirk on her face. “Ahh. But wait for him to turn around.”

“That could literally take for-” Sure enough the blonde turned around for a brief second, The Grateful Dead logo was over sized and plastered to his shirt. Daisy nudged him and he rolled his eyes, “Lucky guess.”

“I could do this all day, Steve.” She flicked the tip of his nose, “Also, what shirt are you wearing?”

“Mmm. You got me.” Steve slid several inches down the embankment when he stood up, wiping mud from the back of his legs. “Speak of the Devil," He pointed a finger towards the stage at the bottom of the hill. “Looks like they're setting up right now.” Daisy ahhh'd in agreement, thrusting a hand up in his direction for help as she struggled to release her feet from the thick mud. 

Seeing that the band was beginning to set up the equipment briefly reminded Steve what he actually traveled up from Brooklyn for. To see the Grateful Dead. One of, if not his favorite bands with The Who closing in on a close second. It seems that a lot of the people who came to Woodstock were there more for the endless sex and drugs. The live music simply serving as the background soundtrack of their four day long love fest.

“Couldn't have asked for better weather.” She grimaced as Steve tugged on her hand. Her feet had sunk quite deep into the hill. 

“Right? If the rain keeps up, this whole pasture is going to be pure mud by Sunday evening.”

“I don't know how Clinton and I are going to get the bus out of here if it doesn't dry up soon.” 

Steve jutted his chin up, squinting down at her with a half smile, “I could help if you guys end up stuck.” 

“Such a sweet, beautiful soul. Offering up those sturdy muscles of yours to help out little ol' me.” The red head softly patted his cheek. “Let's go find my man and we'll all go down to the stage. He's also quite the fan of the Grateful Dead.” She winked and bundled her mud stained skirt up around her knees as the pair slowly trekked across the muddy hill to the bus. Most, if not all of poor girl's wardrobe that she brought with her were white. She clearly didn't plan for such terrible weather conditions.

Daisy softly knocked on the open door of the bus, a shirtless Clinton was laying face down on the rug. She crawled onto his back, drumming her fingertips over his shoulder blades. “Honey...” He stirred beneath her, mumbling incoherently to himself. Steve's cheeks flushed, prompting him to immediately looked away from the two, diverting his attention towards the crowd that was beginning to gather at the stage. “C'mon babe” She cooed, carding her fingers through his short, feathery hair. “Grateful Dead is playing soon and I know that you were so looking forward to their set.” 

Clinton peered up and over his shoulder at the girl who was straddled on his back, a blissful, half asleep smile on his face. “If you keep running those hands all over me, we might not leave the bus.” He warned with a playful wink and squeeze of her thigh to which Daisy responded with a delighted yelp as she slipped off of his back and out of the bus, giving Steve a playful pinch on his exposed hip.

Clint sloth crawled out of the bus after Daisy, yawning lazily as he slung his arm around her shoulder. “What have you two been up to on such a beautiful, gray day?” 

Daisy smoothed her hand over Clinton's, lacing their fingers together. “Exchanging stories.”

“Groovy.” Clinton planted a firm kiss on her cheek, “I know how much you love those.” He looked over to the taller of the two, clucking his teeth. “She hasn't worn you out, has she? I know she can be exhausting sometimes.”

“Hmph. I'm not that bad.” Daisy chided, landing a weak smack across Clinton's collar bone.

“Not at all.” Steve responded, “It's actually been kind of nice to get some things off of my chest that I've kept to myself for a very long time.” Daisy looked over to Steve who winked as she briefly flashed him a sly smile.

Steve was silent the remainder of the walk to the stage, half listening to Daisy's conversation with Clinton about herbs and crystals. She had mentioned earlier that morning in between reincarnation talk about something called Wicca. A word that was unfamiliar to him. His mind had been stuck somewhere between the past and present since he opened up to her and all he could think about was him. Steve managed to stave off the painful ache of loneliness for a majority of his life but now that he allowed the door to be reopened, it was as if someone gave a direct punch to his gut. Permanently unable to fill his lungs and take a full breath.

* * 

The ground was soggy and what was once grass was now an ankle deep pit of mud that surrounded the entire stage. There wasn't a single dry patch anywhere. Steve frowned, watching his feet sink as the trio headed deeper into the crowd. The mud was extremely off putting and he could swear that he was starting to develop a rash around his ankles. Part of him wanted to go back to the bus and watch the concert from the bus. Free from ankle deep mud and constantly knocking shoulders with sweaty and smelly people who have clearly managed to escape the rain by hiding out in their tents or vehicles. His dad often complained about hippies and of their smell. Suppose for once in his life, his dad was right. The combined scent of body odor and sex hung heavily in the crowded area directly in front of the stage. 

Beneath the purple and pink sky, the shouts and cheers of several thousand people rang out as the Grateful Dead began their set. Steve stood there in silence with the biggest grin plastered on his face, watching the crowd dance and sing along to the music. Daisy's fiery red curls bounced and twirled as she danced small, dizzying circles around Clinton who was sing shouting along to the music. “You look absolutely bored, Steve.” Daisy hollered over the music and buzz of the crowd as she circled her way towards him, shooting the blonde a cheeky grin to which Steve responded with flushed cheeks and a shrug. He was enjoying himself. Truly. Steve just didn't know how to “let go” the way everyone who was currently at Woodstock did. He felt stiff, uncoordinated and mildly fearful that he would accidentally trample an unfortunate soul who would have been unlucky enough to cross his path during his feeble and pathetic attempt at dancing. The mental image was more than enough to keep him planted firmly in place.

While his new friends were busy dancing and playing in the mud with the Grateful Dead jamming out in the background, Steve had managed to become somewhat lost in the music. It was as if someone flipped a switch, muting the laughter and shouting that was deafening only seconds ago. Two songs in and he finally allowed himself to sway along to the music, silently singing along to the songs to himself. With the blink of an eye and a sharp exhale, the temporary peace was gone just as soon as it had appeared. Wham. Thud. Just as he had managed to relax, somebody came barreling into him at full force. “Holy shit.” Steve lurched the side, graceless in his movement as he managed to grab hold of the person who ran directly into him, saving them both from being completely coated in the thick, itchy mud. “Careful, man.” He scolded as the two steadied themselves on the uneven, wet turf.

“Yeah, man. Thanks for the catch.” The guy gave Steve a pat on the small of his back, looking up at him with an apologetic smile. “Should've watched where I was going.”

“It's no problem but why were you-” Steve looked down, their eyes meeting for the first time. His train of thought had derailed, sending it flying off a cliff into oblivion. What was he talking about and why does this stranger feel _so_ familiar? Both of their smiles vanished as fast as they had appeared, leaving the two sporting mirrored looks of bewlidermemt. Steve swallowed in desperation to force down the sudden lump in his throat.

The shorter of the two shoved a hand upward between them, interrupting Steve mid-sentence. “Have we met before?” 

“I'm not sure.” He answered, taking a measured step backwards to get a better look at the blue eyed boy. Everything inside his head was shouting out that this was in fact William but Steve knew better. He may not have actively been searching for him in every person that crossed paths with him that afternoon but subconsciously, he was. The odds of finding him there of all places were slim to none. 

The blue eyed boy looked up at Steve, reached a hand out towards him. “Bucky.”

“Um. Steve.” Steve took his hand, his heart instantaneously leap into his throat as the nerves in his hand tumbled over one another the moment their skin touched. He wondered if Bucky had felt it as well or if he was in fact, so desperate that the connection he just felt was completely fabricated by his brain. 

Bucky looked intrigued, brows arched upward towards his hairline. He hummed softly to himself, silently studying Steve for a brief moment before speaking. “You like the Grateful Dead?” 

“Hate em'” 

“That why you're wearing one of their shirt, right?” He mused, gently tugging at the hem of Steve's emblazoned tie dye shirt.

“Absolutely. They're the worst.”

“Hate them so much that you wear their merch ironically.” 

“You got me.” Steve glanced down and noticed they were still holding each other's hands long after the introductory handshake had ended. He could feel color flooding to his cheeks and quickly dropped Bucky's hand. Daisy reappeared from the cluster of bodies ahead of Steve and Bucky, sporting a mile wide grin. “Oh? Who is this cutie?” She sprung forward with long, drug out words, pulling Bucky in for a hug.

“Uh-This is Bucky.” Steve answered for the other since he was in what was essentially a choke hold.

“So nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm Daisy.” She gave Steve a look, questioning if this was who she was hoping it was. If anything, Daisy wasn't helping the newfound desperation for William that had bloomed within him overnight. If anything, she was encouraging it. He looked at her with an odd expression that was one part confusion with a hint of what appeared to be terror. She wasn't one percent sure. “Uh huh. Well...Bucky.” She cocked her head, offering another smile. “I would just love it if you were to come by our humble bus after this set.” Daisy lazily drug a hand down his bare shoulder before skipping off back into the crowd to Clinton. Given Daisy's reaction, it was clear that the two of them had become consumed by the dream of possibly finding William. _Leave no stone unturned, Steve._

Bucky rubbed his neck, skin burning from the fresh friction of Daisy's arm dragging across his skin wet skin. “She's fun. Got quite a grip for someone so damn-”

“Tiny?” 

“Exactly.” Bucky shoved his hands into soaked pockets, teetering back and forth on his heels. “Wanna ditch the crowd and hang back on the hill over there?” he pointed over to the left of the stage at the partially empty hillside where a handful of people were laid out on blankets. 

“Sure, yeah.” He was more than willing to get out of the mud and onto something more solid. The two wound and squeezed their way out of a fifty person deep crowd. In the short walk, Steve managed to wander off into his thoughts; which as of late have been about no one other than William and his newfound obsession with maybe finding him in this lifetime. 

“Thank god. Fresh air.” Bucky commented, snapping Steve away from his mind and back to the present. Bucky jogged halfway up the hill before stopping on the driest area of flattened, patchy grass that he could find. “C'mon.” He immediately sat down, propping himself up on his elbows. Steve obeyed and plopped himself down directly next to Bucky. 

“This...is much better.” 

“Yeah. The view ain't too bad from here. You can actually see the band now.” Bucky added pointedly. 

The view _was_ indeed infinitely better and Steve's personal space was no longer being violated by dozens of strangers. He twisted over to face Bucky who was quietly humming along to the music. “Hey, um. Stupid question but I have to ask. Did you feel it too?”

“Did I what?” He asked, looking up at the blonde with feigned confusion. “Oh...You're talking about _that_ feeling.” Bucky's fingertips ghosted over Steve's hand, crawling up the length of his arm. “Here?”

“Yeah, there.” Steve could feel his ears beginning to burn.

“As if every single nerve in your arm fired off at once. It's almost indescribable.” Bucky stated, fingers drawing invisible lines and circles over Steve's goose pimpled skin.

Steve simply nodded, his tongue unable to form a single coherent word as the sound of his heart threatening to explode from his chest filled his ears. The brown haired boy's hands had wandered beneath his damp shirt, fingers splayed out across Steve's lower stomach. Every single part of his body that had been touched by Bucky was now burning to the point of where it was almost unbearable. He couldn't help but wonder just what exactly this game was that Bucky was playing. Speaking as if he knew something that Steve didn't. Acting as if he were aware of what Steve had been searching for in every stranger over the past twenty four hours. As if he knew about William and Elias. 

His breathing had become uneven as Bucky slinked on top of him, a feral, starved look in his pupil dilated eyes. An index finger tactfully curled itself beneath Steve's chin, pulling him in closer. Bucky scoffed softly, inspecting the dozens of freckles that were peppered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He gently sucked on the blonde's bottom lip, feeling Steve's muscles tense and relax beneath him.

Steve was dizzy, his hands desperately anchoring to the wet grass beneath him as Bucky licked and kissed a blazing path along his jaw. Laying there beneath Bucky and the starred sky resurfaced memories of laying in between the rows of apple trees with William, basking in each other's company. Bucky's touch and attention to every inch of skin mirrored the exact same care that William had when they were together.

Bucky held Steve's head between his hands, fingertips tenderly stroking up and down his jawline. Steve arched forward, desperate to actually kiss him. He was sure that kissing him would answer the question that had been on his mind the moment that their eyes met back in the pit. Bucky's lips were millimeters away but when each attempt that was passed by Steve, Bucky pulled away just in time to dodge his attempts, meeting Steve's desperate gaze with a knowing smirk. “Please.” Steve pleaded, leaning in once more. Bucky obliged, cradling Steve's jaw as their lips came together. Steve released his grip on the earth, his hands now clung tightly to the fabric of Bucky's dirt stained shorts. 

His fingers flex around Bucky's hip, curling into the bone. Bucky approvingly growls as he hungrily licks into Steve's mouth, evoking a muted, desperate moan from the other. He dropped his hands from Steve's jaw, thumb stroking the thick muscles of his neck as he furthered the kiss, digging his way further into Steve's core with each and every touch. Everything about the kiss felt familiar to Steve. From the process to the attention spent on his jaw and neck. He knew those kisses all to well and the moment that Bucky's fingertips lingered just long enough on the curve of his neck solidified that there was a very real possibility that this was William. Or he was reaching for something just because he was desperate enough to hope that the next person who touched him wouldn't actually be a stranger. However, he wouldn't allow himself to fully believe either/or until something else gave way, fully exposing that Bucky was or wasn't in fact, William.

Bucky hummed softly, peeling himself off of Steve's sweat soaked t-shirt. Steve's grip tightened, fearful that he would just climb off and leave him writhing in that very spot after playing some sick game with his head. His fingers carded through Steve's sweaty hair, planting a firm, swollen lipped kiss on his temple. Bucky was smiling as his lungs released a sigh of relief, “I've missed you.” 

Steve sat up, gripping one of Bucky's wrist tightly. His heart thrummed heavily and he felt almost sick. “What do you mean?” There was no hesitation in his response, only a demand to which the corner of Bucky's mouth twitched ever so slightly. 

“Exactly what I meant, Elias.” He watched as the blonde half collapsed as he scrambled to pull him into his sticky arms, chest heaving as the threat of tears burned the corners of Steve's eyes. There was no longer any question or denial in the matter. Somehow, Steve managed to find him without really trying the way that he did in the previous two lives. There he was. After one hundred and eight years apart, it finally happened.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. I apologize for being almost two weeks behind.

Daisy was pouting. Hard. She hadn't seen Steve or his new friend since the night before in the pit during the Grateful Dead's set. She blankly pushed the hard granola around on the flimsy paper plate in her lap, sighing heavily. Clinton nudged her knee in response, following the physical contact with a barely audible “hm?” She shrugged, picking up the plate and dumping her untouched breakfast onto the dewy grass outside of the bus. 

“They didn't come to the bus.” She complained, firmly crossing her arms as Clinton crawled over towards her, readjusting the floral crown on her head. 

“You sound like a worried mother.” 

She scowled, poking her bottom lip out even further. “No.” She rubbed her cheek, exhaling. “I'm not worried.” 

Clinton smirked, watching as she poked her head out of the bus, shielding her eyes from the sun's glare as she scanned the pasture for the fifth time since waking up. “I'm sure he's fine. Looked pretty cozy from what I saw last night.” 

Daisy jerked her head around, eyes narrow with an aggressively arched brow. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“To who?”

“Me, you turd.”

“Did you want to watch or something?”

“...No.” She sat back down, flicking a translucent bead across the floor of the bus. “I had something I wanted to ask Steve.” Clinton tutted, his thick fingers playing in her shiny curls. “But, I suppose that no news is good news in relation to what I wanted to know.” Daisy lowered her head, folding her arms beneath her as she rested her head in his lap. 

“You're impatient.” He added during the small window of silence that was offered from his petting.

“Yes.” Daisy agreed, “Extremely.”

“Should I be worried by how much attention you've been giving him?” Clinton teased, walking his fingers around the curve of her freckled shoulder.

“Not at all.” Daisy scoffed, “I know you're teasing but Steve is one of those gay people.”

“Groovy.”

“Wait. No. I think he mentioned that he liked both guys and girls.” She corrected herself.

“Equally as groovy.”

“Isn't it, though.” Daisy agreed, “If I'm being honest, I'm a bit sad.”

“Why's that?” Clinton straightened his back, creating a loud popping sound which was immediately followed by a sigh of utter relief.

“I'm going to miss him after this is all over.”

“I know.” He added, smoothing a hand across her back.

“Well, I hope he comes back and updates me before tonight. I barely handle the anticipation. It's maddening.”

**

Steve had been clinging tightly to Bucky since the big revelation that occurred the previous evening, fearful that if he were to let go for even a fraction of a second, he'd disappear before his eyes. It still didn't feel real. Because, really...What were the odds? He honestly couldn't wrap his head around it and when he did try to figure out the reasoning behind why, his brain would suddenly become fuzzy. As if whatever was in charge of the universe was blocking him from delving too far into somewhere he shouldn't be looking.

“This still doesn't feel real.” Steve broke the silence between them as his index finger skated up and around the lines in Bucky's open palm. He inched closer, kissing Bucky for the hundredth time since sunrise. Bucky hummed softly, leaning into the kiss. Steve's dark lashes gently fluttered against the apple of Bucky's cheek as he inhaled, devouring his scent as well as the smell of the wet earth beneath. 

“Why doesn't it?” 

“Because, I haven't thought about you until yesterday.” He turned his head away as a hot wave of shame rolled over him, his skin burning. “I mean the odds of you being here are really slim and the fact that I just opened up about you to a friend not even two days ago...What I'm trying to say is that this doesn't feel like coincidence.”

Bucky stretched a hand up towards Steve, brushing a finger over a florid cheek. “Steve, look at me.” He gently tugged at his chin, encouraging Steve to turn his head back towards him. The blonde was hesitant, unsure if he'd be able to keep his stinging tears from falling if he were to look Bucky in the eye. “Steve, why are you upset?” Steve shrugged, giving in to the soft tug and stroke of Bucky's hand, half reluctantly turning his attention back to the one beneath him.

“I feel horrible for just pushing you away to the furthest corner in my mind.” Do not cry. He'd done enough of that the night before. Not to mention that crying made him feel weak and overly vulnerable. “I'm sure you thought about me.”

“I did. Every day since we lost each other.” Steve's chest shuddered, the threat of a storm battered against his ribs. Bucky slinked out from beneath him, cradling Steve's face in his hands. He placed a firm kiss on his forehead before rocking back onto his heels to meet him at eye level. “Steve...You have absolutely nothing to feel bad about. I get it.” The reassurance only churned the waves in Steve's chest, shooting a sharp, hot wave up his spine. Bucky sighed as he watched Steve fight to keep even a single, burning tear from rolling down his cheek. 

There was no competition on who missed one more than the other but there wasn't a single day that Bucky didn't think about his soulmate. He constantly thought about who they were in that current life, what they looked like, if they were okay. He wanted nothing more than for them to be okay but knowing what he knew about Elias' relationship with death, he also worried. Every eighteen years, panic would almost consume him. Because he was completely aware that somewhere, death was closing in on his soul mate and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. 

“I'm sorry.” Steve's shoulders slacked under Bucky's touch as he leaned forward, pressing his sweaty forehead against Bucky's. Bucky licked the inside of his cheek as silence overcame him, unsure of where and how to step forward from this. The pair sat in silence for a beat with the occasional soft sniffle from Steve. Muffled words were spoken into Bucky's bare chest which were met with a short, “huh?” Steve sat up, “I-uh. I looked for you a couple of times.” Bucky's expression softened, watching Steve hesitate. “I told my sister about you and before I knew it, we had stolen our parent's car and just started driving. We weren't even sure about how we would even start looking. I mean, you can't just walk up to a complete stranger and ask them if they know of anyone who has memories of their past lives. They'd have thrown us straight into an asylum.” Bucky was silent, giving a subtle nod for Steve to continue. “She figured that we could just walk around and I'd look at every person to see if _it_ happened. The spark.” It goes without saying that he never did feel the spark that he and his sister were in desperate search of. “We looked for weeks until my birthday crept up. She became fixated on finding you by my birthday. We skipped stopping at a hotel one evening. She insisted that she was good enough to drive for a few more hours.” Steve looked away from Bucky, eyes clenched shut. “She fell asleep while she was driving-”

“Shit, Steve...” Bucky couldn't pull him in any further if he tried. The two were pressed tightly together with Bucky's arms constricted around Steve. 

“That's why I stopped.”

“You don't have to explain anything. Please.” Bucky begged. He didn't want to know about how much Steve had actually suffered in their time apart. At least not now. He couldn't deal with the fact that things were worse than he had initially imagined. “Look,” He carded his fingers through Steve's tangled hair, “If you really want to, we can talk about everything in a few days.”

“Bucky. Woodstock is over tomorrow.” 

“What does that have to do with anything. You're twenty one, right? Come back with me to Brooklyn. I have an apartment. It's time you left the nest anyways.” Bucky added. It was clear that reality hadn't completely set in for Steve. He seemed to be under the impression that once the festival was over, Bucky would just disappear into thin air.

“Right. I'm sorry, I-” Steve rubbed his eyes, the tide of salty tears now receded.

“You apologize so much. It's cute.” Bucky crawled up onto his feet, taking a few steps backwards onto more solid ground. He extended a hand out, taking Steve's hand in his, helping him up. Bucky smiled, almost jerking him forward into his chest. “Are you going to come back with me?”

Steve half laughed, “Yeah. You know, I live in Brooklyn.”

“No shit.” Bucky cocked his head.

“Grew up on Orange Street.”

“You're kidding. I lived over on Willow until a few years ago. How did we never meet? I don't get it.”

The two looked almost pissed off. It seems fate had finally decided to put them together and the two went their whole lives without crossing paths despite living within walking distance of each other. Surely, he would have seen Bucky at school. Steve may have no been a contender for the most popular person award in the yearbook but he did enough people watching during study hall to have a glimpse of Bucky at least once, right? Even out of school, they probably just barely missed one another countless times at the grocery store or at the soda shop. It didn't make sense and Steve was almost mad at himself for intentionally living out his youth with his blonde head stuck beneath the sand. No use in dwelling on it now. Steve cursed under his breath for good measure, making sure fate knew of his current annoyance.

“My mom will be glad to have one less mouth to feed. Some of my older brothers still hang around every now and then.” Steve circled them back to Bucky's offer for him to move in to his apartment posthaste. “I know my dad will be glad that I'm out of the house but are you sure you want me to move in?” It felt right but once again, Steve's world had gone from moving at its own leisurely pace to the point of moving so fast that he feared it'd spin out into oblivion. Never to be seen again. 

“Oh God.” Bucky was practically jumping out of his skin as he clutched Steve's hands in his own, pressing them up against his heart. “I am absolutely sure. Never been more sure of anything other than my love for you.” Steve's cheeks lit up with a rosy hue as he bashfully ducked his head away from the other's joyful gaze. 

“I mean. If you're really sure about it, then so am I.” 

“Great. Let's go today. Skip out on tomorrow's final show. We'll be able to beat the huge jam out of here by a day.” Bucky added cooly, thumbing his nose.

“Um. You sure you don't want to stay to see Jimi Hendrix?” 

“Nah. I'm sure I'll be able to see him some other time. I doubt this will be his last concert.” He shrugged, “Besides, no time like the present, right?”

“If you insist. Can we go by my friend's VW before we go? She'll be absolutely shattered if I leave without telling her.” Steve was almost frowning. He knew she'd be upset that their four day weekend together would be cut short. Really, it was only two days since Steve ran off to sleep beneath the stars with Bucky rather than returning back to the bus with Bucky in tow like Daisy wanted. “I'm sure she's worried about me.”

“Yeah, that's fine. We're not in that big of a rush. I'm sure we can hang around for a beat. She seemed eager to talk to me. I wonder why.” Bucky quirked a brow, giving Steve a quick knowing smirk which was followed by a cheeky wink and pinch of Steve's peach blushed cheek. “My cousin will be thrilled to know we're leaving. Turns out that she isn't a huge fan of the outdoors and countless naked people. Shocking.”

**

The walk to Daisy and Clinton's bus was short. By the time Steve looked up from watching his feet, the short red head was practically pulling the two of them into the bus. Clinton was passed out in the front seat, his legs and dirt browned feet were lazily propped up on the steering wheel. Daisy scowled, planting a firm smack across Steve's forearm. “You shit ass.”

“I'm sorry but Daisy-” Steve subtly nodded his head in the direction of the brown haired guy sitting beside him.

“Oh..OH. OH MY GOD.” She squealed, now holding onto both Steve and Bucky's wrist. 

“Daisy...” Clinton drawled, warning her to keep her tone down with just a single word and nothing more.

“Shit, sorry.” She half cringed before smiling once more at the pair seated before her. “Is he? You know? Is it him? I mean it must be because he's here with you. Wait, is this the same guy from yesterday evening, I can barely remember.”

“Oh wow. Daisy, relax.” Steve gave her lap a gentle pat. “And yes. Yes to all of your questions that you manage to rapidly list off in less than ten seconds.”

“FU-fuck yeah, man. That's some beautiful shit.” She was thrilled. “Oh by the way, I'm Daisy. Steve's friend. He's told me about everything.” She wriggled her shoulders like a cat who was seconds from pouncing.

“Bucky.”

“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you. We should have some celebration grass.” Daisy crawled across the floor of the bus, reaching for a hand painted tin that was tucked beneath a pillow.

“It's nice to meet you to. I'm actually good right now. Kind of want to soak the moment in straight.” Bucky replied, his fingers laced perfectly with Steve's.

“I can dig it.” She mused, shuffling back into place, neatly setting the square tin in the center of her lap.

“Uh-Daisy.” Steve watched as she popped open the tin, filling the bus with the scent of weed. His eyes widened a bit as he glanced into the tin. There must have been at least a dozen joints tucked inside. “Bucky and I are actually going to take off in about an hour. We're gonna skip the last day and also the rest of today, I suppose.”

Daisy glanced up at the pair before shifting her gaze to Steve. “Oh. That's cool. I get it.” She tucked the joint behind the helix of her ear while setting the tin aside. 

The vibe in the bus changed instantaneously. What was happy and overflowing with excitement mere seconds ago now felt like a dark, heavy rain cloud had taken up residence over the trio. Steve could see the subtle wobble of Daisy's bottom chin. It was clear that she was hoping to stay up with the couple all night. He was sure that she just as curious as he was about what Bucky did in the previous lives that led up to the current. She had so many questions that had yet to be answered and now he was just leaving with his soulmate like thieves in the night. She was frowning and did nothing to hide it. Steve looked at Bucky with dread in his eyes to which Bucky responded with narrowed eyes and a corner curled smirk. She was doing her damnedest to get them to stay just a little longer.

“Look, Daisy. Why don't you stop by our place on the way out from here?”

“ _Our_ place? She stopped sniffling and Steve swore he could see the faintest twinkle in her eye.

“Yeah, Steve's moving in with me. I've got an apartment in Brooklyn.”

“Ohhh. You're moving in together. You could have just said so Steve. I thought you were just leaving and that I'd never see you again.” She reached around the driver's seat, plucking a lighter from the pocket of Clinton's shirt, giving Steve a feigned pout that screamed sadness.

“I wouldn't do that to you, Daisy.” Steve's face softened. He wasn't sure if she was actually upset over them leaving early or not. He often had trouble when it came to reading other people's emotions.

“I'm teasing.” She pressed a hand into his arm, giving it a gentle shove. “But that would be nice. I'd love to check out your little love shack.” 

Bucky dug around in his pocket, pulling out a wadded up piece of paper. “Got a pen? I'll write down my address before we head out. My cousin has been wanting to leave since it started raining.”

“Not a fan of mother nature and music?” Daisy mused, plucking up a pen from the floorboard of the passenger seat.

“More the rain than the music.” He scribbled down the address and passed both pen and wrinkled paper to Daisy. “See you tomorrow night then?”

She replied with a tight lipped, sing-song “mmhmm.” Before crawling over to the pair and wrapping her arms as far as she could around them. “I...will see you to babes soon. Have fun!” She pulled away from their space and placed a hand to Steve's warm cheek and smiled. Steve gave a quick nod before turning around and hopping out of the bus with Bucky's hand interlaced with his. 

“Tomorrow.” Steve called out, looking over his shoulder at the tiny redhead who was enthusiastically waving them off. He filled his lungs with a sharp, shuddered breath. Every nerve ending was burning and Steve couldn't stop himself from grinning like an idiot as Bucky confidently wrapped a hand around his bare waist. He could see the future and it was looking quite well. From lonely to loved in less than seventy two hours. He was dizzy with excitement from already envisioning lazy Saturday mornings in bed. Their naked bodies basking in the sun's morning rays. Going to the market after stopping at their favorite cafe for a late breakfast. It would all be perfect.


End file.
